The Next Best Thing

Like all inspiring music, Rachel Platten's Fight Song has put me on fire. 

I feel imprisoned!

The walls that I'm trapped in between are closing in. With every passing second, they restrict inwards. There is nothing but darkness before my eyes. It makes no difference if I close them shut, or keep them wide open. All I see is black. 

The walls are ever so close. 

I can't breathe...

I must break...free!

That's how I imagine myself dying.

My claustrophobia has rendered me fragile. IRL, it isn't a box I'm inside; it's this world. I feel the edges moving closer, the whole earth deflating and becoming less spacious, making it difficult for me to breathe. There is just too much to take at once. Being an eighteen-year-old isn't easy.

For starters, my life was already messed up. Since birth. That's right. I don't know how I got through high school, but I did. The culprits were the last years of high school that I believe—I know—made me encounter the turning-point. And I chose wrong.

And now, I pay the price. Every day.

Our choices matter. One bad choice is equal to ten thousand lifetimes of misery. We must be wary during choosing.

As we grow up, everything takes the form of corridor bullies. Or, in my case, "everywhere bullies". You have to have the energy to deal with pressing matters, before they get the chance to deal with you. And when that happens, I know what happens.

Desolation.

It's like having flown into a flock of migrating vultures, instead of your own. Once you've been seen, you can't hide from them. Then, you must fly away as fast as your strength permits. You must do whatever necessary to escape. Or else, you'll be captured, bit, and killed.

I think I have flown into a group of even dangerous predators.

Campus life is, so far, unaffected. So far so good.

My major is taking over now. It's like I'm trapped in the loop of a flowchart. I can't seem to fulfill the condition that my enemies have implemented, to get out of the loop. And it's round and round; in circles, every glorious day.

I don't cry anymore. Even though I know it helps, I see it as a sign of weakness. I hold back my fountain, nice and tight, until the urge dissipates. But there are times, when I don't.

I ask you again, my tormentors: What did I do?

My claustrophobia isn't permanent. I do manage to get away from my pursuers. And it is then that I can breathe. But the getaway is terminal.

And the cycle continues.

I tell myself to be patient.

A permanent escape awaits; all I have to do is be patient, and walk my way to it.

It awaits.

It is happening every day.

I read today about a rare Swordfish that was caught—poor soul—and was sold. Our money-hungry capitalists will do everything to rise above their stations. Worse than even them, are the fishermen who come across such rare and endangered fish, and don't set them free, even after the education they're provided of handling said species. There was already the tragedy of the Largetooth Sawfish that was sold, despite it's status of critically endangered. And now, yet another has occurred.

We are sailing to destination destruction. 

The rare Houbara Bustards need saving, too. There had been a ban on their hunting, but it was only short-lived. The government lifted the ban because of God only knows why.

I remember what my mother used to say about our Peacocks when I was little. That they were endangered. And they're still. Peacocks are being hunted down even today.

What of our Indus Dolphins? They were endangered, too! Their habitat was being dumped with chemical waste and they were dying as a result. Is even a single one left?

The Pangolin that was shot! It was in the news how a wounded Pangolin was found. It had been transferred to an animal facility. Or so I keep telling myself. The very next day, came the news of that poor Pangolin's death.

What are we doing?

As the human race is advancing, the animals of this cursed planet are dying. So casually! We have blood on our hands! The blood of millions of beautiful animals that are no longer with us. What of the endangered? Are we making sure that they're given the needed resources of repopulating? No. Instead, we are hell-bent on seeing them fall into the abyss of extinction.

Who will save them?

The organizations that have sworn to protect these animals can only do so much. We, instead of contributing to their welfare, are contributing to increase more deaths.

I believe a global campaign is needed, to pull the entire world out of the darkness that it is inside now. And into the light that will be its salvation. If you're reading this, start a campaign of your own. Visit your nearest pet-shelter and start contributing. Look for internships at different animal-shelter organizations. Write an eye-opener of your own. Post a video on YouTube; make sure it goes viral.

Let us be the voice of these voiceless endangered!

Re-enactment shows are on the rise.

Almost all of the news channels that we see have one or another crime re-enactment show that is aired. The content that is shown in these half-hourly television shows is not suitable for under-18's, but no specific warning is issued as preamble to the episodes as they begin—to ward off the under aged. Some parents are ignorant to the upbringing of their children and allow them to sit and watch. This results in the child's learning of the horrors of the world of crime and gives room to...possibilities.

The crimes being re-enacted are usually that of theft, murder, abduction, and sexual abuse.

 If left unsupervised during watching TV, teenagers might come across these shows in the process of 'sifting through' different channels. They might decide to watch and it might not be healthy for them.

PEMRA has issued warnings to more than seventeen TV channels, asking them to abide by their policies, lest the channels should get banned.

Whatever hope I had of a successful social-life at campus, is long dead.

Work is piling up, and I have yet to compartmentalize it for my convenience. The days of ease are gone and I am now stuck in a maze of bewilderment. There is just too much that needs my concentration. It's either my only two friends during the ten-minute breather between classes, or not missing the name-call after the break ends. Those ten minutes end so fast! I always refuse to leave, of course. But, my refusals have had a toll on my friendship; my friends don't expect me to show up and when I do at the end, I'm given the cold shoulder.

There is competition. No one seems to threaten me, but underestimating people is a bad habit I've been trying to get rid of. So, I'll definitely not resort to it. I'll keep an eye out, as always, for the ones I have to be wary of.

Impressing the teachers is what I primarily devote my energy to. So far, my progress bar is stuck at zero. Taking assumptive measures for achieving destinations has not once been of fruit, so here's my Plan B: I guess I'll just do my best, without judging anyone—until the necessity comes knocking—and make sure that my teachers remember me.

Climbing up the social hierarchy is a fool's errand; specially for someone like me. What was I thinking? A gigantic selfie with my entire class? I don't even like selfies.

At times like these, one must do whatever is important. I think I have a pretty clear idea now, after being a failure yet again at being properly social, of what actually needs to be done and what doesn't.

Yay, you, life.

As General Raheel Sharif's tenure is closing in on its end, there is much speculation as to who will be his successor. Unlike most before him, the general has declared his disenchantment towards an extension; a privilege with which one can hold the mantle of COAS for longer than decreed. He has revealed that he doesn't believe in extension and will retire on due date. This adds to this general's many revered qualities. He received international appreciation and has done far much more good than his predecessors. Not all responsible entities are power-hungry.

The next in line are Lieutenant Generals Maqsood Ahmed, Zubair Mehmodd Hayat, Syed Wajid Hussain, and Ishfaq Nadeem. It'll be in our PM's hands to elect the new COAS.

Power is amazing. 

Will they be able to further the legacy that General Raheel will leave behind?

We owe Zarb-e-Azb to Mr. Sharif—and I don't mean the PM. His tenacious efforts bore fruit and most of the terrorists hidden in our country have been condemned to hellfire. This operation is yet to conclude, but its end will undoubtedly mark the complete oblivion of the Taliban regime, at least from Pakistan.

Among the general's many accomplishments, The Hilal-e-Imtiaz and The Nishan-e-Imitiaz being one of his most noteworthy, his foreign awards of the Order of Abdulaziz Al Saud, the Legion of Merit, and the Order of Military Merit are what make our hearts burst with pride.

With Rajput blood running in his veins, our general has achieved so much that will never be forgotten.

His tenure is to terminate in the month of November this year.

The future COAS will have a long way to go to catch up with his predecessor's glory and to make more of his own name.

Our military is all we have. The pride the nation has for its military can't be calculated.

Long live the Pakistan Army!

As soon as class was over, we made our way outside. There were some errands to run, so we headed where needed. After our work was done, it was time for home. It was then that I saw Muzzammil—one of my only two friends—in the smoking corner, cigarette in hand. Now that I think of it, he just borrowed one, had some, then returned it. The whole site really knocked me off guard; ambushed me out of nowhere. A friend of mine was dumb enough to borrow someone else's cigarette to have a swig. Maybe he was enticed? Tactfully forced? Or did he take it from the hand of that senior of his own volition?

I need to talk to him.

We both might be in the same boat. I have an energy-drink addiction. I have a bottle of Sting every day, even with the knowledge of it being dangerous. I previously began experiencing pain in my chest area. There were sudden jerks. I was reflexively made to rub the area, until the resonating spasm dulled into oblivion.

It was definitely Sting's doing. And I have these jerks even now.

Cigarettes, however, are another story. Everybody knows that carcinogenic content has been discovered in them. Cigarette's cause cancer and are extremely harmful for the human body. An uncle of mine died of the affliction caused by his chain-smoking. He had hidden his condition, but his doctors confirmed that he had had throat cancer. We all knew how that happened; because of his cigarettes. The man did dedicate his life to social welfare, but also to smoking.

My dad is a chain-smoker, too...

I detest cigarettes. If I inhale even a little of it inadvertently, because someone else is smoking and is in close proximity, I ostentatiously puff out my cheeks, make a scene, walk around, glare at the smoker, and exhale as loudly as possible. My little act has never embarrassed any smoker I've shown it to. That's how bad these cigarette addicts are addicted to the...love of their life! They're like moths to a flame. And you know what happens to the moth in the end.

When I ask my dad why he won't leave smoking, he says that it's because of us—myself and my siblings and my mom. That we're ruining his life, while on the contrary, we're not. We are a happy family. His smoking is just a bad habit. My middle-school science teacher, Asher Daniel—or at least I think that was his name—told us that boys, as they enter the grown-up world, want to be recognized as grown-ups. And they believe that by practicing this act of self-destruction, they will be seen as grown-ups and will also be treated the same. I think this is true.

I'll never really know why people smoke. They must have their reasons. All I think is that they think of it as stylish. They want to be seen smoking. It might inflate their ego. This is for teenage-smokers and men in their twenties, of course. Old timers, I believe, really must have messed up lives to be resorting to the so-called comforts of this heinous practice.

We must know what is right and wrong for us. Not knowing might kill us. Kills us.

Will I be able to rid my friend of this dangerous habit?

I must try!

It was fast. 

The new Disneyland-like theme park in Lahore has caused up quite a stir. The PM has struck a deal with a Chinese company, Golden Bean, and will—without hesitation—spend an estimated 32 billion on the project. Sources say that Lahore will have a Disneyland to call its own after two years of construction. No expense has been spared. Literally. This park will have its own supply of electricity and there also will be a road built, leading to its entrance.

This park will have a rollercoaster, which will be the source of most of its clientele; an aqaurium, destined to be popular among children; and business and shopping centers, which also will add to the number of visitors. Land acquisition is underway.

For a country gripped by poverty and famine, a luxurious and extravagant a theme park as this won't be of help. The prime minister's unwise plans might as well be the downfall of our already fragile economy. There are some that condemn this unnecessary establishment. But we all know that they'll lose interest soon, giving in to the delights this park is promising.

Where did the money needed for this project come from? It obviously was borrowed, adding to the gigantic amount of the country's debts. And if it wasn't, then this entire prospect is even more terrifying; the money being ours but being spent on an amusement park and not on the education and cleanliness that this country needs. Will Pakistan ever be free from the burden of paying back millions to the countries it has borrowed from? What will the Quaid say if death had not taken him from us and if he were here?

It wouldn't be anything nice, if that's what the government is thinking. Maybe it isn't thinking at all.

But opinions defer. Some say that this construction will make Pakistan appear more lavish and will be a tourist attraction. That this development is the 'change' this country has been waiting for.

These people are obviously from Lahore. And are obviously the end this country will face if they get their hands on power.

It is also causing more hatred between the cities. The people in others strongly feel that the PM is neglecting their cities and is focusing primarily on where he comes from. This antagonism is not healthy for us if we are to stay united. Our politicians have been doing a good job so far of dividing up the people, making them hate others based on racial and lingual prejudice. And now, the PM is contributing as well.

If only the PM could see what horrors this country is facing. If only he had the intelligence of investing this very amount of 32 billion in the issues that actually need to be solved.

Children are dying of hunger in Thar. People are dying of rampant disease. Women are being raped! Street crimes are forever the same. We mostly don't have clean water to drink. Some don't have water at all. There are power-outages almost every day. Some roads are filthy, some places are filthy. The rural population is increasing and is not receiving any education. This country is being attacked by terrorists. Pakistanis are being considered terrorists. They have no respect in the eyes of foreigners.

The list goes on.

This whole country is a cauldron of boiling, overflowing, dark gumbo!

Will a rollercoaster feed the hungry? Will this park solve all of our problems?

The PM's plans are definitely unwise.

All I can do is raise my voice and condemn this stupidity. The whole park will be a debacle for me, even when everyone will end up liking it. I'm also waiting for the PM's reign to be over; since I am now 18, I also have the right to cast votes. But what can I possibly hope to achieve all on my own?

And the votes don't matter. Only the powerful win the elections.

Will Pakistan be saved? Who will be our savior? Who will end all of this?

Who will?

And most importantly, will it end?

Oscar-winning paragon Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy has done the honorable.

Using Twitter as her medium, she has given rise to a petition that might hasten the prime minister's actions of his resolve for eradicating honor-killings into oblivion. She claims that this petition will be sent to the prime minister himself and has urged us all to have it signed so that it can have an enormous outcome.

She writes:

"We, the undersigned, urge all stakeholders to pass the Anti-Honor Killings Laws (Criminal Laws Amendment) Bill 2014 in the Parliament, making sure all honor killings perpetrators are convicted and jailed.

 These honor-killings have been prevailing exceedingly in the rural areas of the country. If we won't stop them, no one will.

The petition and the instructions of contributing to it can be found out from the revolutionary herself, by contacting her on Twitter.

Thank you, Miss Chinoy.

Suddenly, switching to the comforts of technology and applications makes productivity and ease-of-access much more viable. I've chosen to download the required books for my semester, instead of buying hard-copies This transition is a little other-worldly. I do read books on my phone—have been doing so since ages—but they're just books. I can't expect questions to be asked from The Legend Trilogy by Marie Lu or John Green's Looking For Alaska in my PF (Programming Fundamentals) exam.

Whatever this change feels like, I will have to go through it. I wouldn't call it a change, really. I was into all sorts of productive apps and android customization even before I chose my major. But I never used them professionally. Yes! That's it: I never used them professionally.

These apps and extensions have been proving very useful:

• Pocket. 

I already was using the android app, to save articles and newspaper pages and anything else that I came across and deemed important. I've now downloaded the Chrome extension, too, so that I can have pocket on all of my devices. Two down, one to go.

• Gliffy.

They have a Chrome Extension, too. So I've given it a try. So far, I've been using it to draw flowcharts; my first bull. Whether I am taking it by the horns, is debatable.

• ColorNote.

ColorNote has been on my phone since forever. It's a notepad app, as the title says, with additional features. This app is very user-friendly and also has widgets—which is the option I like best. You can use it to make to-do lists, a shopping list, and many more.

• WPS Office.

This is a document-viewing app. It also has multiple features. I am currently using it to edit my poems on my phone, and for reading the books required by my curriculum at my university. Also to view the slides that our teachers give us.

• Merriam Webster's Dictionary.

This dictionary has received the appreciation of millions. With a slick and stylish UI, Webster is today's most commonly used offline dictionary app. I use it daily.

These apps and that extension have been helpful so far. Gliffy is the newcomer, the rest I had already. There are more apps out there that can aid one in studying. I know I'll find them, eventually.

I have new demons to face.

I am encompassed by overwhelming anxiety once my mind successfully determines the gravity of a dire situation. At first, I am angry with myself, then, I let that anger out by either self-talk or by engaging in an activity. It doesn't take much time to put out the fire, and soon enough, I am no longer burning with the flames that represent my anger.

I may have said my piece in PIS (Pakistan and Islamic Studies), which has turned my nemesis—muscular and intimidating Ali—and even the others into admirers. Friends, if not admirers. And, no. Ali is now just another acquaintance who'll be doing me a tremendous favor by not laughing at me or criticizing me. But, there are other problems to solve.

Our VLM (Visionary Leadership and Motivation) instructor is so very pretentious. Okay, maybe not that. But he most certainly appears as trying so hard to be someone he's not at times. If only he could stop trying to mimic the American accent, I'd actually like him. The purpose of his course is basically career-counseling. Also, motivation. But in our first go, we didn't even see a ghost of motivation. The stylistic way of his delineating the horrible ramifications of obtaining a GPA less than 3.5 and that of exceeding the absence limit was very motivational. I can't seem to shake off his influential babble! I'm stuck. He is a hypnotist; and I've become his victim. He uses scare-tactics instead of motivational dialogue.

He almost had me convinced to drop-out! Just in a single lecture.

I can't believe him. I can't believe myself!

I now am in everyone's scrutiny. I'll be expected to be "friendly" as per my piece. Which I don't think I can pull off. But I also think that I can. All I need is the environment with which I can thrive. And the environment starts as soon as I enter campus. They'll also expect from me better grades. I want better grades.

The studies are demanding, too.

I don't know what will happen. But I'm going to try. Hard.

These four years will either make me or break me. I'll decide what they do.

The terrorists have struck AGAIN!

Youtube is back.

It happened a few years ago when this website was blocked in Pakistan due to a specific blasphemous film. If you now try to access the abhorrent content, it will not be available; meaning that Pakistanis can enjoy the video-sharing website as they please without discomfort.

Many here adore the music on the site, or are interested in comical videos. Some use it for watching video-game walkthroughs and DIY instructions. Culinary videos also get thousands of views. The act of blocking the site bore the support of all, but people's determination began to dwindle as the years passed. The ban did naught against the film and it kept on being viewed by the rest of the world, while Pakistanis couldn't use it for what they wanted to.

The blasphemous movie, "Innocence of Muslims", caused up global chaos. There were protests all around the world and after a three-year hiatus, the proprietors claim that the film has been removed—or so is being said. Whether it has been properly removed, is questionable at best. It just isn't visible to us. 

Or maybe I'm not well-informed.

Youtube has updated its policy and believes that there won't be any more incidents like the thirteen-minute film of Nakoula Basseley.

The global hatred towards Muslims—the real ones and also the terrorist groups in pretence—has grown in magnitude. The tragedy in Paris only increased that hatred even more and the endurance of this hatred was borne by the "innocent Muslims", while most of the terrorists responsible got away unscathed and are even now still plotting and planning their next atrocity. The hatred against the innocent has been soothed into a dull sensation in some parts of the world, but some are more hell-bent to despise us than the rest.

Maybe there is more to this world than we know.

Whatever the hidden power-hungry are up to, this world is ours as much as it is theirs. We may be distinguishable by religion, race, and color but it belongs to all of us. And if we don't realize that our actions are directly responsible for the shaping of the planet, then the horrors of science-fiction really might come alive and nothing will be left of the world but smoke and flames.

Let the return of Youtube be taken as a step in the right direction, and may we all recognize the real enemy of the world, the real culprit trying to turn countries against each other, and prevent the innocent from being demonized. And prevent the world from destruction.

What an exhausting day!

The H1N1 Influenza, or the Swine Flu, is on the loose in Karachi.

This evolved and more dangerous strain of the normal Influenza has been on the rise and is causing deaths almost daily. I read today's newspaper and learned that five died of this ailment. Because of the increasing number of deaths, the conscience of the government has been revived and special instructions have been imparted to doctors and health departments. They are still to properly equip themselves against this viral outbreak and ensure that vaccines are available to all.

Research says that the symptoms of this flu are quite synonymous to those of the usual influenza. The common ones are high fever, coughing, a runny or stuffy nose, diarrhea, frequent vomiting, fatigue, and pain; specially in the chest region and abdomen.

This affliction is fatal, but people with strong immune systems can fight it off with rest, over-the-counter pain medication, and fluid consumption. The unhealthy, however, need to be cautious. Antiviral medication against this strain is highly effective. Though I still don't get it why doctors aren't prescribing such medicine and can't seem to get the increasing death toll under control. Some are even saying that the vaccination prevailing is incapable of ridding us from the strain.

This flu spreads fast. Usually by inhalation, touch, and by contact with the infected themselves. Basic preventive measures available on the internet are frequent washing of the hands with sanitizers, avoiding touching the eyes and nose, using tissues to sneeze, and avoiding travel in crowded public vehicles.

Don't succumb to this viral strain.

Stay safe and spread the word!

The Orientation.

I didn't even have to try. I've already made enemies. There was help, too. From the rumor-spreaders. I'll undo what they did. I know I can.

Can't wait for the classes to begin!

What did I learn today? No matter what you do—or in my case, what you don't—you are destined to be judged and ridiculed. And if you stand up for yourself, they say you're rude and unfriendly.

My university life will be the much needed break from the everyday strenuous depression that I go through, worrying sick about my bad reputation. I now have a new purpose: managing myself at my university. I'll be dedicating more time there than to what people say.

I feel so energetic! If only I had shown a little of it there. But when I think about it, I'm glad I didn't. I only would've made a scene. And that would've been added automatically to my resume. I did stand up, though. But calmly. That person thought that he could just walk away scot-free, by indirectly terming me "faggot". I rebutted that. Well, there wasn't much to rebut, but I did open my mouth and said my piece.

There were two more.

How will I avenge myself? I know how!

By getting in the good graces of the teachers.

But first, I'll have to convince them that they've been told lies about me. It's like I'm gifted; one glance at a person's body-language, and I can tell that they've been fed.

If I have to be strong, I'll have to let go of Mr. Puppy. I should've done this a long time ago. Better late than never. What does that stupid stuffie give me anyway?

I bid you adieu.

And also to you, old Samee.

My four years here will definitely not break me. I'll make them make me.

Let the games begin!

Tomorrow will be an important day. For me, if not for you. And for the rest that will be attending the Orientation session.

It has been more than a month since I received my acceptance letter. I had been selected, it had said. I was sure that I would get in. This was followed by my sitting down and feeling intimidated by what the curriculum of Software Engineering would be like. I had seen a little of it during web-browsing. But I later shook off the fear.

I have been waiting. Since I lost my ability of easily being polite with people long ago, I have had to practice and reclaim it. There still is doubt lingering in my mind about whether I'll be able to pull it off. I haven't been normal for years. I have my reputation to thank for that. The reputation that they gave me.

Will I be successful?

I've already made two friends before the session. I've been talking to them but still don't know them well enough. They're both nice. I hope they're the same in person. If I am not successful, they'll be the only two I can consider allies.

Will we be birds of a feather? Will I be able to make more friends than just two?

The rumor has spread there as well. These people are hell-bent on making my life miserable. But I won't let them. They might have turned a few there at the university against me, I saw that in the recruits' behavior towards me; but I know how to win, too. It's the teachers that I'll be after. The heads and my classmates. I won't be a sitting duck this time. I can guarantee them that. It'll be fire with fire now.

It all comes down to what you do. 

And I am not going to let them have all the fun.

The illiteracy that encompasses some selected areas of our land has been undergoing an unrestricted increase. I wasn't at all alarmed when I yet again came across an honor-killing tragedy. This time, the father thought of the daughter of his that he killed as his most obedient.

Why kill her, then?

Whether the daughters are romantically involved with strangers or not, all these men need is wild conjecture, rumor, and whispers. As soon as they receive any of these, or have themselves seen with their own eyes what their daughters are doing, they adhere to murdering them.

The case that I read today in the newspaper is not the first. And most certainly won't be the last.

What we need is change.

We need to make these less fortunate men, still gripped by the norms of their ancient lives, see that what they think is the right action, isn't. There are other ways of resolving the issues that their adventurous daughters give rise to. Other sane ways.

What did killing got him? His daughter died and so did the man she was dating. Multiple bullet wounds brought about their unnecessary deaths. And he is now being dealt with by legal authorities.

Are there going to be more "honor killings"?

Will this tradition of murder end?

The modern age doesn't seem to be having the needed influence on the thinking of these people.

Are their daughters doomed for eternity for just a little bit of rebellion? A little bit of exploration?

Will these people see the light that they have been denying entry in their dark lives?

What will happen?

Nine children of the cursed Thar were reported dead.

I remember when I finished the last installment of the Harry Potter books.

Disappointment took hold of me. I didn't want the series to end. It was right then when I wondered whether Rowling would continue the story with the children in lead. This was many years ago. She has let the series flow once again; in the form of the play that is supposed to behave as the continuation of the best-selling books. But, the feeling of bidding adieu to one of my most favorite novels was there when I closed it.

And now, one of the best characters is no more.

Alan Rickman—or as we know him: Professor Snape—was among the main characters that kept the novel series afloat. His menacing demeanor may have been less digestible at first, but in the end, we all ended up loving him.

His acting was flawless in the movie. It was his acting, other than Dumbledore's, that made me laugh and made the entire movie franchise so alluring.

And now, he's no longer with us.

I don't know about the rest, but all of us HP fans are certainly going to miss him.

Rest in peace, Alan.

Another blast.

18...

I didn't even know, couldn't even tell when my blank check was thrust into the palm of my hand; but then again, my parents were always very lenient and I never knew any restrictions growing up.

And now I wish I had.

Self-grounding doesn't help either. It lacks the parental element that I seek—I hate being a perfectionist! Even now, my parents don't give my activities any heed. Have they taken my being responsible for granted?

If only I were so.

With the increasing number of years, come increasingly difficult obstacles that one must possess the knowledge of dealing with.

So that we don't screw up.

Keeping a diary is helpful. You can track yourself by confiding everything into any sort of diary and then devise strategies to overcoming what's in the way. Consulting with an adult authority figure is advisable, but you need to determine first where their allegiance lies: with you or with what is right. My such figure is the internet. I browse for everything on the web, and the solutions that I come across are perfect. Too many cooks, in this case, have never spoiled the broth for me.

From how to not be sad, to how to make friends and how to solve a problem, the internet has been my aid.

As we enter the grown-up world, we are expected to behave like adults. Some never wade through these waters. I didn't, at first; but as my number of screw-ups increased, I automatically became inclined to sticking to the rules and staying out of trouble.

There's so much that one ought to know to survive the real world.

When we are so indulged in our teenage-life, real things keep happening in the real world. And we have to then catch up to them with more than just extraordinary vigor.

And this catching-up is what gets to us

There is so much more to life than selfies and hanging out. I was never infected by the selfie epidemic. Thank you, Almighty, for that. But I covered up for that with irresponsibly handling my allowance, not being social when needed, and by isolating myself from all things important.

I have a lot to fix and a lot to learn.

Success comes to those who are super-sensitive of these issues. Dreaming pipe-dreams and dwelling on farfetched ideas is only a waste of time if one is not intelligent enough to know what to do and what to drop and how to get to where one wants.

I hate this freedom. I don't yet have the thinking of a responsible adult. I'm working on it. Until then, I have my fingers tightly crossed.

It doesn't seem quite bygone when the pipeline near Karachi University burst and brought chaos in the area. And now, yet another has exploded. There are many other places in this city encountering the problem.

The responsible authorities don't appear as responsible as they ought to.

Karachi won't be as tidy as it used to be. That's guaranteed. What with the less fortunate littering and further adding to the city's polluted state. We are in desperate need of an effective awareness campaign that can shine some light on the darkened perspectives of  Karachi's inhabitants. The question is: Who will be the pioneer of such a campaign?

Will this epidemic be the downfall of our city and is Karachi doomed forever to the harsh ramifications of the pipeline peril, or will someone do anything about it?

I don't know where I'm going from here, but I promise it won't be boring.

I don't even have to guess who the culprit is. There is always one anywhere I go.

My bad reputation has little effect on me nowadays. The part of my brain that was responsible for scolding me and shaping me into something appealing for the eyes of people, has been dormant for a long time.

He stood there, pretending to browse for jeans. Did he know that his acting wasn't good enough to hide his true purpose? I don't know. As long as they successfully spread their virus of a rumor, they're good.

Once I and my dad were done, he gave me a backwards glance and then revealed his ulterior motive for having bothered the salesman. I didn't have to eavesdrop to know what he was feeding the ears of his new recruit. I just stared, hopeless and helpless. What could have I done?

So what if I'm being demonized for things that I haven't done? I know what I am. Isn't that enough? And even if it comes down to making the ones that really matter believe me, I know I'll pass that test with flying colors.

There's so much good to be done! I have to focus on that. I'm too tired to fight back. Instead, I'll do something equal in magnitude to the rumor, and then win with additional strength.

That's the best thought I've had all day.

I know I haven't done anyone any harm. They're the ones bullying me. They're the bad guys. And I am not. I am one thing. And that is: Naive. One lifetime is too short to deal with a misunderstanding as grave as this.

I know what to do now: Fight back with good deeds. Overpower their rumor. And win.

I saw it on every news channel.

It had started by the man not being allowed to park his vehicle in an area that he wanted to. Or that's what they say. Frustration took over him and he became physically violent with the traffic police. I saw him wrestling, outnumbered but determined, still. They got him under control and then he was arrested for assaulting police officers. Reinforcements, really.

I saw on another channel, how he sat, hopeless. Pleading for mercy. His hands were incarcerated by cuffs and to humiliate and intimidate him, they had even had his shirt removed. The poor soul let it all out, placing all of his problems one by one.

This is the mental condition most of the people living here in this country are facing. All of his misfortunes took over him and he saw nothing bad in letting the warden have it. He was wrong in doing so. And was justly arrested. But there are more like him out there. I don't mean myself.

What will become of him once he's been released? Will the political entities promising their aid actually help him or was he just used to gain the public's favor? Or was this man in complete harmony and plotted the whole thing, getting the attention of the media and then showcasing his perils? Did he think there was no other way or was he just slave to his misery and it toppled him off the edge?

Whose fault was it?

I think all are to share the blame.

This is a sick city we're living in. And the ones that have been sick for too long, end up destroying themselves.

No matter how much I've hardened, deep down inside, I'm still a human being. My barriers don't stand forever. They get broken down, and I have to reconstruct them. It is this very time of reconstruction that I am at my most vulnerable. This is the time I hate.

A trip to the doctor's.

Their omnipresence wasn't unexpected, of course. They're always out there. This entire city is in cahoots with them! I know my blog entries make me seem paranoid, but I'm going through this storm all on my own. So anyone else can't possibly understand.

I was a fool to hope otherwise...

After the unmentioned diagnosis, I and my dad went to a nearby pharmacist's. He gave us what we needed and we were on our way. I was very close to...exploding. There was a bunch of four—with the help of the psychological tells I use to distinguish the involved from the uninvolved, I categorized them "involved"—that was hooting and acting like a pack of wolves. All I did was stare at them, which wasn't reciprocated. Thank Heavens! I don't know what I would've done if it hadn't been so. The hooting was obviously meant for the famous celebrity that they were sent to annoy. That's me, unfortunately. And infamous at that. My whole resume of bad things was concocted by them.

We returned home. The people that threw me glances and laughed, were successfully ignored. The hurt that began accumulating, stood no chance against my latest mood swing. Thank you, latest mood swing.

Was this blog a mistake? It is bringing no change in the people's attitude towards me. Was I that big a fool to even wonder that it would?

Apparently, yes.

Life is too short. Mine, I think, could be even shorter. Stupid health issues. And by that, I most certainly don't mean mental health issues. I've already spent four of my important years trying to cope with this stupid, highly exaggerated scandal. This is such a huge misunderstanding. If only they knew.

I think they do.

Do they like seeing me like this?

Do they want me to suffer?

I dream of changing the world; making it better. How can I achieve such a farfetched prospect if I can't even make my own people believe me?

Am I not trying hard enough? Or am I simply doomed to be treated like this?

Whatever's the case, this blog certainly wasn't a mistake. I finally am gaining the audience I was hoping for. That's what my gradually escalating page view count says. And, yes, I've isolated all of my own devices from contributing to the count. So that's not me. Are you people actually believing me? Will any of you help?

I wonder when all of this will end...

I don't even know if the people I'm posting for are even reading. Keeping in my mind their tenacity with destroying me, I think they must know about my blog. They DO keep track of my online activity, and my every other activity, I know that for sure. So, yes, they must be reading this.

So, I ask them this: Who made you judge, jury, and executioner? Why the hell are you spreading these foul rumors about my personality and my character? What did I ever do to you? I don't even know you!

Why are you hell-bent on making me suffer for the things I have NEVER done?

Why?

To be convicted of crimes that you haven't committed and be bullied because of those false allegations on a daily basis is floating in dangerous waters. The people that are ruining my life must know that what they're doing is simply...evil. This forces me to wonder: Do they really? It's high school all over again. I thought I was no longer an easy victim, but I was deeply mistaken.

You can't live a normal life when this is happening to you. My life isn't normal. I have to be on an endless surveillance; watching out for whatever peril may encounter me next. And silence doesn't do you any good, either. I know that now. While you're quiet and waiting for the storm to subside, it actually gets worse. Why? Because you didn't do anything to stop it.

All these years, they've been telling their lies to wherever my associations lie or are about to. The people I then interact with definitely judge me, using well the knowledge that they've been fed. At times, I feel like relapsing into the my former, psychologically unhealthy version. The rogue version that used to make things worse for me. But, as the years have passed, I've adapted well to my surroundings and the every day routine of being publicly detested and ridiculed. I've adapted to living in fear.

No matter how good I keep on getting, living in fear is the worst misery there is.

People like me.

Some never fight for the dignity they deserve. They cower and are frantic in their quest for shelter, basically anywhere they can hide. The world outside has them on a constant run. They are puppets to their puppeteers, practically carrying out all their commands. To mention the only: hiding and cowering. Saying nothing against the misery that is being inflicted upon them.

I used to be one of those helpless—but I'm no longer!

I believe the conundrum that I'm caught in, the discipline that is needed to behave and get to the end, applies to every one. So what if you're not the subject of people's unjust criticism? You surely have synonymous problems like I do. You might be afraid of "what people say", too. I'm sure you readjust your life a little, if not a lot, in accordance with what people have to say and what they will "think".

If you don't, then I salute you.

I feel nothing but anger for myself. I should NEVER have let this problem stay afloat for this long! It's time I fight back. It's time for my voice to be heard. It is time that this world hears my side of the story.

I'm NOT what they are telling you!

If you're out there, and are being forced to breathe in a particular demeanor, digestible by the masses, then here's what I have to say to you: STOP!

We only get to live once. I will only get to live once. I am not going to let hearsay get in my way anymore. I'm not going to let the stones they throw to obstruct my path form a barricade. Instead, I'll fashion it into a bridge, to get far away and closer to all of dreams.

I suggest you all do the same.

It's been four years...

My nightly escapades, and of the day, weren't scrutinized with the ferocity of today back when I initially began. The possible consequences of my activity didn't even occur to me. If only I had been as smart as I was considered at school. But I wasn't. I was oblivious to the horrors that awaited me.

I would get out every night. My phone would be in my hand, connected to it, my ear-phones; making their way up and into my ears. The music would always be loud, however, an occasional vehicle passing by would sift through the commotion in my ears and make it's presence known. My time outside, I was accustomed to thinking back then, was of poetic awakening. I would look up at the night sky and count the stars. This would quickly trigger whatever body is responsible in my brain for the poetry I write and I would soon be entertaining an "idea". There were other ways of conjuring up the beginnings of new poems. Somehow, roaming around aimlessly in the dark used to do the trick.

But I don't go on my adventures anymore. Not since the rumors originated.

People...

They thought of me as someone "dangerous" and made it their sole aim to follow me wherever I went. While all I did was think about poetry, they thought I was doing something...suspicious. Their tenacity worsened and they recruited more people for the accomplishment of their sacred task. It worsened still and they were successful in securing the help of the police.

They follow me everywhere now.

Whenever I now leave my house to run an errand, people outside look at me with contemptuous, condemning eyes. Some laugh, some simply stare; trying to study the creature that they see before them.

I am notorious in this city.

Just because some people spread a stupid rumor, which has now multiplied and has all sorts of variations, these four years of my life have been my most toughest yet. And I know even more are to follow, if I choose to stay dormant.

But no more.

I've decided that I won't let them ruin my life anymore. I'll clear my name through this blog. I'll make them see that they have been wrong in their wild conjecture—and not just one—and that I am very far away from the person they've been thinking I am, and have been, and still are, forcing others to believe so, too.

I'll take it no more.